than despair.

All that evening I waited, trusting in the dove-sent olive-leaf, yet in
the midst of my trust, terribly fearing. My fear pressed heavy. Cold
and peculiar, I knew it for the partner of a rarely-belied
presentiment. The first hours seemed long and slow; in spirit I clung
to the flying skirts of the last. They passed like drift cloud--like
the wrack scudding before a storm.

They passed. All the long, hot summer day burned away like a Yule-log;
the crimson of its close perished; I was left bent among the cool blue
shades, over the pale and ashen gleams of its night.

Prayers were over; it was bed-time; my co-inmates were all retired. I
still remained in the gloomy first classe, forgetting, or at least
disregarding, rules I had never forgotten or disregarded before.

How long I paced that classe I cannot tell; I must have been afoot many
hours; mechanically had I moved aside benches and desks, and had made
for myself a path down its length. There I walked, and there, when
certain that the whole household were abed, and quite out of
hearing--there, I at last wept. Reliant on Night, confiding in
Solitude, I kept my tears sealed, my sobs chained, no longer; they
heaved my heart; they tore their way. In this house, what grief could
be sacred?

Soon after eleven o'clock--a very late hour in the Rue Fossette--the
door unclosed, quietly but not stealthily; a lamp's flame invaded the
moonlight; Madame Beck entered, with the same composed air, as if
coming on an ordinary occasion, at an ordinary season. Instead of at
once addressing me, she went to her desk, took her keys, and seemed to
seek something: she loitered over this feigned search long, too long.
She was calm, too calm; my mood scarce endured the pretence; driven
beyond common range, two hours since I had left behind me wonted
respects and fears. Led by a touch, and ruled by a word, under usual
circumstances, no yoke could now be borne--no curb obeyed.

"It is more than time for retirement," said Madame; "the rule of the
house has already been transgressed too long."

Madame met no answer: I did not check my walk; when she came in my way,
I put her out of it.

"Let me persuade you to calm, Meess; let me lead you to your chamber,"
said she, trying to speak softly.

"No!" I said; "neither you nor another shall persuade or lead me."

"Your bed shall be warmed. Goton is sitting up still. She shall make
you comfortable: she shall give you a sedative."